


More Than This

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-01-27 23:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 19,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12593072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Dean tries to plan the perfect Christmas for Cas.





	1. Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> If you follow me on Tumblr, then you might remember that last year I did an advent calendar-style fic called A Christmas Present For Dean. It was posted throughout December as twenty-four drabbles that fit together to tell one story, and this year I'm doing the same - though the individual parts of the story are much longer than drabbles this time; there's even a separate one for New Year :)
> 
> So, if you feel like reading along, then come find me on Tumblr from the first, and if not, the entire fic will be posted here on the 24th - with the New Year part going up on New Years Eve.
> 
> Happy Holidays if you're celebrating; Happy Overindulgence Day if your Christmas looks anything like mine ;)
> 
> Love and hugs
> 
> x


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)
> 
> I may have miscalculated how much time it will take me to proofread the parts of this story in time to post on here for Christmas, so I'm going to start posting them now - the newest parts are scheduled to post on Tumblr each day so if you want the newest part, head over there ;)
> 
> x

It’s different now. They’re different—everything is different. Sure; there’s still a world of evil, with both supernatural creatures and human beings alike doing their best to wreak havoc on everything that is good about existing. But despite all that, there is hope on the horizon. Optimism in the most ordinary of things. And for Dean, the epitome of that, is Cas.  

Cas. Who’s currently burrowing himself down further into his pillow, with the comforter tucked up over his ears, and mumbling under his breath about how it’s far too cold to be getting out of bed.

“Cas,” Dean half-whispers again, his words curving up in affectionate amusement, and his fingers unable to resist reaching out to pointlessly flatten a tuft of hair back away from his forehead. “Cas. C’mon, man. We got stuff to do today,”

“Like what?”

Dean bites back a laugh at the grumpy, petulant words blasted back at him, and squeezes his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Well, for starters, I need some quality time with my Baby…”

There is an indignant wriggle that Dean struggles even harder to fight against laughing for, and he braces for whatever retort is about to come his way.

“Dean,” Cas growls, “why do _I_ need to be awake for you to clean the Impala?”

“Because,” Dean replies, bending down to kiss his forehead then hooking his finger over the top of the comforter to drag it down and receive a scowl, “I want company,”

“I am sure Jack will—”

“I want _your_ company,” Dean amends, cupping his face and looking down at him what he hopes is pleadingly.

“Last time you told me I left fingerprints…”

Dean snorts, remembering the indignant retort he’d received at the time, and how he’d kissed it off him. He’s happy to resort to the same tactics now.

“What are you—”

But Dean steals Cas’ protest by pressing on Cas’ shoulder until he’s on his back, then straddles and sits in his lap. One suspicious eyebrow raises at him, and it’s enough to set him off laughing before he can do anything else, and he has to compose himself for a second before he’s reaching up to one of the shelves overhead, and dragging down a small bag that he deposits on Cas’ chest.

Cas eyes the bag even more suspiciously before staring back up at him.

“Yours could do with a little TLC as well, you know,” he teases, thinking of Cas’ own vehicle and internally groaning. “And look—” Dean raises the car cleaning kit so Cas can see the bee on the label, and taps over the writing underneath proclaiming the beeswax will give extra shine. “—bees. Your little helpers. C’mon, Cas; think of this as your first Christmas gift,”

Cas’ eyes narrow at the bag again, and he slowly raises an arm up to pull the bag closer to his face for inspection. Then he carelessly tosses it to the side and sneaks his other hand out from beneath the comforter to grip around Dean’s hips.

“It is a very practical gift. Thank you, Dean,” Cas says, but doesn’t make to move at all.

“What?” Dean laughs, covering Cas’ hands with his own, “you want me to clean it for you?”

“I want further justification for why I— _we_ , should leave our bed, before breakfast, for _this_ ,”

It had taken Cas a little while to realize he could voice whatever he wanted to with Dean. In the beginning of their _relationship_ —and Dean has to laugh at himself for that, because honestly? It feels like they’ve been in a relationship for _years_. They _have_ been in a way; they’ve just been too stupid to acknowledge it out loud is all. But once he realized he could say whatever he wanted to Dean, make demands of his time that no one else would get away with, day by day, he’s got more confident, and even expectant of him at times. Dean loves that.

But Cas has always been able to say more to him with a look than he ever manages to with words. And Dean is more than happy to be receiving the look he is now.

And besides. It’s hard to say no to Cas for anything these days.    

“I mean,” Dean amends, leaning forward until he’s down on his forearms and nuzzling against Cas’ cheek, “we don’t have to go _right_ now, if you don’t want,”

“Good,” Cas replies, his hands in a lazy slide up Dean’s back, “perhaps I can show you how… _grateful_ I am, for my first Christmas gift,”

“There’ll be a ton more,” Dean assures him, ghosting their lips together, “better ones,”

Cas hums against him sounding pleased and pulls him in closer, and any thoughts Dean might have had about having a productive day are dissolved between kisses and soft sheets.


	3. Chapter 3

The car cleaning kit plants a seed in Dean’s mind. He’s known Cas for however long he’s known Cas now, and Dean wants to kick himself for only just remembering that expression on his face—that no one else probably even notices—any time anyone gives him anything that’s meant only for him. It makes his stomach hurt to remember just how little Cas asks of anyone, and how appreciative he is for even the smallest of things; Claire picked out his car air freshener once, and Dean knows he still keeps the little tree stashed in his glove compartment long after the scent has gone, just because of her.  

And when he’d given Cas that mixtape, Dean thinks, having to close his eyes for how hard his chest aches for even thinking of back then, and everything that followed; how could he not already be going out of his way to see that small, awed smile every single day?

In fact, he’s so overwhelmed by the idea of needing to put that look on Cas’ face again, that Dean begins writing himself a list. Lines and lines of gift possibilities, buoyed by the idea that this will be the first Christmas where he’s allowed himself _to_ shower Cas in presents. There are so many options, so many things he knows Cas will get a kick out of in his own quiet way; the question is more about controlling _himself_. How is he supposed to wait until _Christmas_ _Day_ to begin showing him that he thinks of him constantly, and all the gifts and gestures that are symbols of that?

He can’t, Dean decides, further placating himself with the idea that he _does_ show Cas in other ways all of those things. He just wants to give him _more_ , and _now_ , and what better way to do that than in the lead up to Christmas? He might need a little help of course, things to keep Cas distracted as he plans things, and—

“Do you want to have lunch together?”

Cas is stood in the doorway of their bedroom— _their_ bedroom, Dean thinks, with a jolt to his stomach; he still gets a kick out of that idea—and his eyes are drifting in curiosity over the sheets of paper strewn over the bed. Dean gathers them up into a hasty pile and folds them over, tucks them out of sight, then jumps up off the bed and crowds up against him, kissing him hard.

“I wanna take you somewhere,” he says, whispering it against his lips. Cas’ hands curl up around his sides, and he nods in easy agreement.

Cheeseburgers don’t really speak much of Christmas. And they certainly don’t stack up much in Dean’s new self-appointed mission to give Cas so many gifts he can’t help but constantly smile. But the look on his face, the careful way he checks through the menu just because Dean told him this was the best place for burgers and he should think about trying something new: it’s almost gift enough, Dean thinks, unable to stop smiling as he watches from across the table


	4. Chapter 4

He needs a full day to plan, Dean decides. A full day where he can map things out, get them in order, put calls in to the people he needs to, and order what he wants online. There’s also some stuff he needs to do face to face to get all of the things he wants to give Cas as presents; in fact he’s going to need a little help from everyone so he can pull everything off.  

Sam is practically effervescent when he tells him of his plans. Dean snorts, tries to mock him for being so excited about another person receiving _gifts_ , but the look on his face is so soft and happy and _proud_ of him, that all Dean can do is gruff out a _thanks_ as he cuffs the back of his neck.

Dean kisses Cas goodbye at the side of the Impala, tangling their fingers together as he barks at Sam over the roof of it to be careful, then watches for a few seconds as they drive off. And then he’s going back inside with a spring in his step and a lightness in his heart that he can thank only Cas for; why he ever spent so long denying himself _this_ by being scared of admitting how he was feeling and what that might mean, is now so beyond him, that at times Dean feels like an entirely different person.

Of course he’s _not_ , Dean huffs to himself as he puts on a fresh pot of coffee then pops his head round the door of Jack’s room to see what he’s doing, secretly gauging how likely it is he’ll be alone as he plans. When Jack scowls at his current favorite show being interrupted, Dean backs out the door with his hands up in apology and returns to the library, setting up the laptop and grabbing up all his lists. He’s not any different, Dean thinks to himself as he returns to his earlier musings as he settles down, he’s exactly the same person he always was, just less… afraid. More open. More willing to allow himself to just _be_.  

 _Cas_ , he thinks to himself and catches himself smiling, then rolls his eyes and claps his hands together decisively, before taking a sip of coffee and getting to work.

***

Cas returns with a couple of bags, a pinkness to his cheeks, and a huge smile on his face. Sam divides up the pizza they picked up on the way back so no one has to cook—which Dean is thankful for since he’s literally only just finished all the planning and buying he’s been doing all day long a couple of minutes before they stepped through the door—and calls Jack through to eat. It gives Dean a good couple of minutes to crowd Cas back against the table and kiss him in greeting, still cupping his face when Jack and Sam walk back through.    

“Had a good day?” he asks, still smiling at Cas for a few seconds before stepping back.

“Yes,” Cas smiles, leaning a little closer to tell him of the gift he’s bought him— _them_ , for later, and leaving Dean’s own cheeks filling in pink.


	5. Chapter 5

“I was inspired,” 

Dean snorts at Cas’ words as he watches him at the potter’s wheel, sleeves rolled carefully up past his elbows and one single splash of wet clay along his forearm, and tries to keep a grip on the blob of clay on his own wheel. 

It’s hard to concentrate though. Cas’ fingers are wet and messy with clay, and are gently caressing and coaxing it into an actual cylindrical object that has hope of becoming something actually practical—a far cry from Dean’s own disaster in the making. But when Dean had shown him the printout of the details of their pottery class—a gift idea he came up with after remembering Cas’ eyes lingering over a demonstration in a small store they’d passed when on a hunt—the look of surprised delight on his face was worth just about… everything. Including the mess he’s making.  

“What are you thinking? Vase? Tankard? Abstract art?” Dean teases, watching the concentration on Cas’ face and in doing so sending his own clay to the floor. He doesn’t get an answer though, because their tutor is coming over to heap praise on Cas’ shoulders, and it’s turning his lips up into a small, proud smile that Dean can’t snatch his eyes away from. 

“Hey. Michelangelo; you listening to me?” he calls again the moment she steps away, and Cas turns his head to look at him with an even wider smile. 

“Michelangelo was an exceptionally intelligent, interesting individual,” Cas replies, his eyes alight with amusement. “I sat with him on two separate occasions when he was sculpting. History speaks of him being a chaste, private man; that is  _ not _ the man that I knew back then,” 

“So,” Dean says, feeling his own eyebrows raise up, “the rumors. About him liking… about him being… you know—”  

“There is an element of truth to many rumors,” Cas tells him airily, holding his gaze for a second before turning back. 

“So,” Dean says after a minute of watching him in profile, “what are you making?” 

“I thought perhaps a vase for your mother,” 

Dean’s heart gives a slow thud, and his stomach heats with an affectionate warmth just thinking of Cas and Mary together. Cas must sense him still staring because he turns to look at him again and offers up another smile.  

“I… I think she’d like that,” Dean tells him, his voice coming out soft. 

“Of course,” Cas amends as he turns back to his wheel, “I will have to find another gift for her for Christmas. I can’t imagine this will be sufficient,” 

“She’ll like anything,” Dean tells him, his head filling with the image of a family Christmas with the bunker full of all the people he loves and cares about, and thinks how that might be just as much a gift for him as it is for Cas. 


	6. Chapter 6

“We should’ve done this already,”  

Cas looks up at the tattoo parlor’s sign, then back down at Dean, and his face softens in understanding.

“C’mon,” Dean adds, tugging on his fingers, wondering if he’ll be able to keep his eyes off lingering over Cas’ chest—only to look at his _other_ tattoo, of course —as he gets this anti-possession one done. They _should_ have already done it, he chides himself, a shiver so vicious at the thought of anything happening to Cas like that, that it literally has him shuddering as he takes a seat and watches Cas slowly pull off his shirt.  

“Like this one,” Dean adds belatedly, standing again and pulling his collar down and to the side for the artist to see, then hands him over the outline he’s printed off, and watches as he nods then goes to work.  

Cas doesn’t even flinch. Dean supposes that he’s been through worse things than a tattoo being etched into his skin, then finds himself shuddering at the thought of what that _worse_ might have entailed.  

“Are you okay?” Cas asks as he lifts his head from inspecting the tattoo before it’s covered over, and Dean can’t help it, he has to kiss him, right there in the middle of the tattoo parlor and to hell with anyone else who has a problem with it.

Of the three other occupants of the parlor, not one bats an eyelid, but Cas’ smile for him is both warm and triumphant, and just invites Dean to lean in again.

He’ll wait though. They’ve got other things they need to do today, and if he distracts himself with kissing Cas again right now, then who knows how much longer their day might be—and Dean has some clear ideas in his head of what he wants to do with Cas this evening.

Dean leads them back to the car with his hand firmly slotted through Cas’, already going over a mental checklist of some other, hunting-related things he wants for Cas. There’s the iron ring he’s had specially made that’s set with a sterling silver cross in its face; hopefully more practical than the plain silver rings he’s worn himself over the years then disposed of when they got too bent out of shape to wear.

There’s the other thing, though, Dean smiles to himself, that he can’t wait to see Cas’ face when he sees it. At the moment Cas’ fake IDs have a mixture of surnames that are interchangeable, meaning he’s everything from Novak to Milton and whatever in between. But an ID of his own with the last name of _Winchester_ might go some way to helping Cas realize just how much he _belongs_ here with them as a part of their family.  

Dean’s stomach gives a nervous, violent flutter at the thought of _Castiel Winchester_ , and has to kiss Cas again right against the side of the Impala to distract himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean’s ideas of gifts might not necessarily be conventional, he thinks as they make their way to the car. Years spent with making the best out of nothing for Sam so he had at least  _ something _ to open on Christmas morning have made him creative in ways that aren’t always the most aesthetic. But he has a feeling Cas might  _ get _ this particular gift, even if it’s not really much of anything at all.  

Cas turns away from their kiss with a smile on his face, and as he’s probably done a hundred times before, reaches automatically for the passenger door, oblivious to Dean’s internal musings. 

“Uh uh,” Dean denies, a hand wrapped around his forearm and gently pulling him back. When he has Cas’ attention, he very deliberately takes his own car key from his pocket, then takes out an entirely new one—complete with an angel keyring that he couldn’t resist buying—so that Cas will understand that it is his, and his alone. 

Cas’ eyes are huge as Dean settles the key into his palm, his free hand out and tracing over the length of the key with one finger before he looks up at Dean in alarm. 

“What?” Dean teases, nudging against him. “Can’t hurt having a spare,” 

But of course Cas sees right through glib comment to the heart of the gesture, and his smile is so humbled, that Dean’s stomach is flopping all over again.  

“There’s this outlet store about… ten miles out from here,” Dean announces, gently shifting Cas to one side so he can slide down in the passenger seat and wait there for Cas to realize he’s the one driving. “Figured, since there’s so many of us this year, we should decorate the place,”   

“For Christmas?” Cas asks once he’s moved and is sitting down himself; Dean watches the very careful, almost reverent way he slots the key into the ignition, and the way his face lights up as the engine purrs to life. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods when he looks at him, “for Christmas. Not like we’ve not got space for miles of tinsel and fairy lights,” 

“And a tree,” Cas adds, looking hopeful, his hands out and round the steering wheel and stroking along it as he waits for Dean to point out the direction they’re going in. 

“Well, yeah,” Dean replies, nodding and gesturing, “but not today. There’s another place I want us to go to get that,” 

“Okay,”  

“But I mean it,” Dean says, reaching out and squeezing Cas’ leg, “we’re going the whole nine,” 

“Dean?” 

“Every decoration you can think of. Fake snow. Those… singing things that I can set off and hide in Sam’s room somewhere just to piss him off. Nativity scenes; all of it,” 

“I assume Jack will be… bemused,” Cas smiles, and Dean has to bite back a burst of laughter at the thought of explaining Christmas traditions to the both of them. 

***

They leave the outlet hours later with the Impala laden down with bags upon bags of decorations. There’s novelty hats, festive serviettes, even cookie cutters in the shape of holly, snowflakes, and stars. And Advent calendars for all, of course; they have a few days to catch up on, sure. But who has a problem with a little extra chocolate? 

(Jack, apparently. And it’s not  _ too much  _ chocolate, it’s not enough; there’s a tussle as Sam tries to explain why they open just one door in the calendar per day, and any amount of reasoning has to be done carefully for the way Jack’s face morphs into something truly terrifying. Cas is the one to placate him with a walk and apparently stern word, because Jack returns only an hour later looking contrite, and asks Dean if he’ll show him how to make cookies so they can try the cookie cutters out) 


	8. Chapter 8

Jack is intrigued by Claire. He quietly observes her at times which has Claire shifting a little and frowning, but then a switch flips and out of nowhere, he’s asking a hundred questions a minute. Claire is generally amused by the entire thing, often sending exasperated looks in Jody’s direction, but Dean knows her well enough to know she’s not made by it—it’s almost like she considers him a younger sibling, which considering what Jack _is_ , is all kinds of hilarious.

Cas loves having Claire in the bunker. Their relationship has morphed into this comfortable, supportive thing that really makes Dean’s heart melt—not that he’d say it out loud, of course. But to watch them together, the way they nudge into each other’s side and share jokes and smiles when sat across the table, is possibly the best thing about having insisted on this family dinner. Even if Jody is pretending to complain that she’ll be too tired to drive all the way back home on a full stomach.    

Alex looks bemused by all of them, Donna’s laughter and general joy is continuous throughout the entire meal, and Sam’s just beaming at them all like he doesn’t know where to look first.

“So, I was thinking,” Sam says then, and Dean knows from the shift in his seat that he’s a little nervous about whatever it is he’s about to say. “Actually, Dean, you go first,”

Dean’s temporarily spluttering over an ill-timed sip of beer, but rights himself quickly and nods to Cas to let him know he’s okay.

“ _We_ were thinking,” Dean says, rolling his eyes at Sam for a moment, “it’d be great if we could all have Christmas together. Here; not like we’ve not got the room,”

“All of us?” Donna says with a smile, looking at everyone around the table and just beaming with how much she already likes the idea.

“All of us,” Dean nods, “It’s gonna be me, Sam, Cas, and Jack anyway; why not you guys too? I’m thinking, if you get down here maybe Christmas Eve… we’ll have a couple days together here, then, I don’t know… everyone can go do their own thing after,”

“And,” Sam adds, clearing his throat, “I thought… maybe if it’s okay with everybody… I mean… if you want, of course… maybe Eileen can come too,”

“More the merrier,” Donna smiles before Dean can say a single word. He’s already grinning at Sam in approval and planning a world of teasing once everyone else has gone.

“It’d… it’d be good for all of us to… you know. Be together,” Dean repeats, and the look Mary’s giving him is tear-filled and loaded with approval of the idea.

“Count us in,” Alex nods enthusiastically, raising a glass to toast. Jody raises hers second, and slowly everyone’s doing the same. Dean has to sneak a look at Cas’ face and knows he’s probably got a stupid smile on his own for seeing how happy he looks.


	9. Chapter 9

“You wanna wait here a second for me?”

Cas’ smile for him is curious, and Dean would expect it even to be a little disgruntled when he presses Cas to stay in the Impala as he heads out to a store. 

“Okay,” Cas agrees anyway, and Dean leans across the seats to kiss him, distracted as he always is by kissing Cas, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to draw him closer and losing himself a little. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he promises, leaning in for one final kiss before forcing himself out the car and telling himself not to look back. Though he checks Cas can’t see the name of the store he’s going into, just in case. 

The guy behind the counter looks bored out of his mind. Dean hopes that doesn’t mean he’s a grump. 

“Hey,” he says, hand already in his back pocket, “wanted to see if you can print out a photo for me?” 

“Sure thing,” the guy answers, straightening up from where he’s half-sprawled across the counter, “what size you want?” 

Dean looks over the display he’s gesturing at and picks what he hopes is a good size, then turns his head and looks around the store for a frame. “I’ll take that too,” he says, pointing one out. 

“You want me to mount it up for you?” the guy asks, already at his computer with the flash drive he’s handed over, and turning the screen for Dean to point out the file.  

“Sure,” Dean agrees with an easy shrug, then watches as he prints the photo out, checks it over and mounts it, twisting it this way and that before he’s satisfied then laying it in the frame. 

“You want this gift wrapped too?”  

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, that’d be great,”  

“Something festive?” the guy says, pointing at the sheets of gift wrap to the side. “Plain?” 

“This one,” Dean says, pointing to a Christmas tree motif one, and the mistletoe on another sheet reminding him of something else he means to buy.  

So far Cas has got a bunch of novelty things to open—bee socks, a beehive air freshener, his own mug with what Dean thinks is a hilarious logo about angels and hopes Cas agrees. He’s also got that ring Dean wants him to wear when hunting, three books he caught Cas reading the back of when they were in a store a couple of days ago, a tie that he personally thinks is an abomination but knows Cas will love, and a scent that he knows without a doubt is going to smell incredible on Cas. 

He’s got other gifts in mind, and a whole load of other things lined up, but it doesn’t feel like there’ll ever be  _ enough _ things he can buy or give to Cas. And when Cas’ eyes fall on the present gripped lightly in Dean’s hand as he returns to the car, he almost caves and gives it to him then; a framed family photo might not be the most interesting of gifts, but it’s the first one Cas has ever had. 

“Nope,” he announces anyway having carefully stored the framed photo in the trunk and opening Cas’ door for him, “but… coffee?”  

Cas smiles at the compromise and steps out the car, holding Dean’s hand instinctively as they make their way to Starbucks, where he insists on an Eggnog Latte after Dean tells him it’s  _ traditional _ , though also takes a sip of and approves of Dean’s Holiday Spice Flat White. 


	10. Chapter 10

Dean’s hand does not tremble when he hands the mixtape over to Cas. It’s the second one he’s given him, and he should know already that it will be a gift that’s gratefully received. Even more so this time, since Dean’s spent a lot of time picking out the songs he knows to be Cas’ favorites. But still, he thinks, shifting awkwardly as Cas turns the tape over with a soft smile, he pleads with himself to have chosen the right ones.  

“Thank you,” Cas says, just as soft as that smile, and reaches out to squeeze his fingers. 

“I thought,” Dean says, crowding closer to him and then wrapping his arms low around his waist, “maybe we could drive out. Listen to this on the way,” 

“Where are we going?” Cas asks, resting his hands on Dean’s shoulders and smiling, carefully turning the tape away so it doesn’t dig into him. 

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs, leaning in to kiss him, “just thought… you, and me… Baby… wherever the road takes us,” 

“Actually,” Cas says, stepping back and squeezing his fingers, “I have something we should take with us,” 

Dean’s pulling over about five miles out from the bunker when Cas finally reveals that the thing he’s got hidden out of sight is mistletoe, that he silently hangs over the rearview, then turns to Dean with an expectant smile. They might pull over for a little longer than Dean had planned on, and Dean might be even more grateful that he’d had the foresight to pull over into a fairly secluded spot. And when they finally drive off again, their faces are both lit up with the biggest of smiles. 

And if they end up in this tiny little bar in the middle of nowhere, where Dean picks out a song on the jukebox then drags Cas to his feet and softly serenades him as he stares back at him with the biggest smile on his face, then there is no one there to see him do it—and not a soul out there that could make him embarrassed.  


	11. Chapter 11

The thing with making it his personal mission to keep showering Cas with gifts to make him smile, is that every time Dean gets another gift for him, he’s torn between wanting to give it to him there and then, and wrapping it up for him to open on Christmas morning.

But this one, he thinks, this one is the kind of gift that he can give both now and later. At least, Dean amends to himself, he can give it now, and they can share it later. Which just has Dean thinking about the massage oil that he’s bought and the fancy-by-their-standards hotel he’s got planned for them the weekend after New Year—details of which he’s carefully designed into an ornate invitation that’s sealed in an equally expensive-looking envelope, and has checked six times he’s cleared from his laptop (honestly; it was easier when the only thing he had to hide on there was porn, and  _ that’s _ not something he needs anymore…) 

Still, he thinks, he really hopes Cas likes this idea. He’s fairly sure he will: Cas has been engrossed in just about everything Netflix has to offer, but the first time Dean took him to the theater to watch a movie, complete with popcorn, hand-holding, and okay, perhaps a little making out on the back seats just because no one else was around to object, Cas had talked about it for several days after and immediately asked when they could go again. Mostly no one around, Dean amends to himself with an uncomfortable swallow; those girls who were a few rows down from them had stage-whispered  _ hot _ at them loud enough for even Dean to blush and pull back. 

That Cas had turned to glare at the three of them then all but launched himself at Dean again might still play on Dean’s mind from time to time, but that is  _ not _ the reason that’s inspired this gift of a season ticket to the theater. Not all of it, anyway. Maybe just a part of it. 

“You’ve—we’ve got a full twelve months to go see whatever you want,” Dean tells him as Cas carefully inspects and turns the card over, “and, we don’t even have to go to the same one. If it’s this name, we can go anywhere we want,” 

“Even when we’re on hunts,” Cas says as he looks up at him. 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean grins, relieved he likes the idea, “even then. Maybe not when we’re covered in blood or... I don’t know, whatever we’ve ganked, but… yeah. Sure,” 

Cas smiles back and leans in to kiss him in thanks, then nuzzles against his cheek. 


	12. Chapter 12

Dean’s a little giddy with excitement about the thought of his next gift idea for Cas, and this one really isn’t one that will wait until Christmas. He’s researched several stores before finding the perfect breeder who gives all the documentation and initial medical stuff that apparently, all guinea pigs need. Dean has no idea, of course, and so is taking the woman’s word for it, but the thought of Cas’ face when he gets to choose one Dean thinks he’s more excited by than anything else.

He’s picked up a pet carrier already though. Spent a ridiculously long time choosing between small cages and bags, thinking if it took him that long for just one thing, then Cas is going to be a nightmare when he brings him back to buy whatever guinea pig paraphernalia he might want to get his new pet. Not that he minds in the slightest, of course.

Cas is suspicious when they pull up outside a regular-looking house, his eyes drifting over the front of it before turning back to Dean.

“You’ll like it. Honestly,” Dean assures him, reaching out and squeezing his leg before getting out. Cas follows him just seconds later and immediately reaches for his hand, looking once more over towards the house.

The owner, a bright-eyed woman named Barbara, ushers them in enthusiastically and leads them through the house. Cas’ eyes are everywhere, and Dean has the impression he’s looking for clues for where he’s being taken. He curses himself for a minute for forgetting the pet carrier he still managed to leave in the trunk despite reminding himself constantly, and jogs back out to get it then returns, only to find Cas in what sounds like a deep and meaningful conversation with Barbara about how often guinea pigs should be fed, what signs to look out for if they get sick, and what make the best guinea pig toys and treats. Cas’ face is solemn, carefully taking in everything, but Dean can tell by the twitch of his shoulders just how very excited he is by the whole idea. He turns to look at Dean absolutely beaming, and Dean can’t help return it.

“So? Which one do you think?” Barbara asks, ushering Cas over to the area that’s more like a sprawling pen than a cage. And Cas is lost to Dean; down on his knees and leaning over with his hand held out to be fussed over, his voice full of such pure delight that Dean wants to record it and hear it over and over again.

The one that finally gets Cas’ attention is a tan-colored boy that scuttles up Cas’ arm after headbutting repeatedly at the back of his hand. Cas lifts him up, observes him at eye level, and even from the angle Dean’s standing at, he can see the happiness on Cas’ face.

“What’re you gonna call ‘em?” Dean calls out softly as he watches Cas stroke a tentative finger over the guinea pig’s head.

“I will… think about it,” Cas says, distracted and mesmerized.

“And you should know,” Dean says, following Cas as he gushes over his new pet and Barbara watches the entire thing looking utterly enamored, “Mom says she’s happy to babysit… _guinea pig sit_ … whenever we need to go somewhere,”  

Dean has a vision of their future, frantically leaving to go on a hunt but having to pack up this guinea pig and drop it off at Mary’s like it’s their child, and both groans and grins at the idea.  

They spend approximately two hours in a pet store choosing bowls, water drippers, the right kind of straw. There are toys, and manuals and, honestly, Dean had no idea a guinea pig would entail all of this _effort_. But the look on Cas’ face is worth anything, including any future hard work caring for this guinea pig might bring. Dean’s already created the perfect space for the cage in the bunker, which helped narrow the choice of that down at least.

Dean pictures getting back to the bunker and getting everything set up, and the fuss Sam is going to make, and thinks he might get himself a little quiet time and leave them to it tonight. Though he does sneak in when Cas is taking a shower and smiles at the set up, smiling harder as the guinea pig steps forward to the bars as though inspecting _him_ , and carefully sticks a strand of tinsel along one side of the cage that he can’t get his teeth into, planning on making every corner of the bunker as festive as he can.


	13. Chapter 13

This is Christmas, Dean thinks, looking at the sheer mess that is a tangle of decorations waiting to be hung and strewn everywhere, and grinning at the tinsel around Sam’s neck like a scarf.

There’s some old Christmas songs playing on the vinyl player set up in the corner, and Mary’s wandering around the bunker apparently covered in glitter as she sprinkles and tweaks and appears to be in her element.  

Dean and Cas went out early this morning to pick up the tree, a huge, sprawling thing that took forever to strap down on the roof of the Impala, and that made Dean very grateful for several pairs of helping hands to drag the thing inside. While they were out, Sam had taken Jack to buy even more baubles for it, and Mary had been happily writing out a stack of Christmas cards at the library table; Dean has no idea who they’re all for, but there’s a ton of them now waiting to be posted.

Sam made exactly one comment about Cas topping the Christmas tree. Dean doesn’t want to know exactly what Cas’ response was, but he can’t get rid of the phrases _taking turns_ and _your brother_ he’d overheard out of his head, no matter how hard he strains to listen to the Christmas music instead. Mary passes him, oblivious to his pain, and affectionately pats him on the cheek, walking with Cas in tow as they drag through even more tinsel than Dean remembers buying.  

Decorating the tree is a messy, argumentative, family affair. Jack wants to know why the angels aren’t anatomically accurate, Mary’s lost in several retellings of memories of both her childhood and Dean’s own. Sam chips in with things Eileen’s told him about her experiences with Christmas, and Dean, well. Dean’s in his element, more than happy to silently observe as they hang baubles, carefully add even more fairy lights to branches, and wonder out loud just how much will result in the whole thing toppling over.

Cas is quiet, Dean thinks, watching him as he moves around the bunker either assisting Mary when she drapes things from the ceiling, or hands things to Sam to stick up. But he’s happy, so very happy in his own little world, Dean thinks, seeing the smile on his face and the way his entire posture screams of contentment.  

The guinea pig is brought out when there are absolutely no more decorations to be hung anywhere, and several photos are taken of everything—usually with the guinea pig in the hands of whoever is in the shot. When Jack realizes that some of those photos are going to be sent to Claire, the guinea pig is gathered up in his arms, and Cas is following him, and Dean makes eye contact with both Mary and Sam as they disappear mumbling things about guinea pig poses.

“What have you done?” Sam teases, clapping him on the shoulder and gesturing towards the kitchen.

“I… have no good answer,” Dean laughs as he follows, bending to the fridge and dragging out three bottles of beer.  

***

Much, much later that evening, when the guinea pig— _Alfie_ —has been shown every corner of the bunker and had his photo taken enough times to make the poor thing starry-eyed, Jack has baked several batches of cookies under Dean’s careful supervision, and Mary and Sam have spent an hour having an apparently hilarious lesson of ASL with Eileen over Skype, Dean is wandering through the bunker lit only by fairy lights and the occasional candle, and a sense of peace settles in over him.  

He sips at the mulled wine Mary convinced him to make up a batch of earlier, smiles at the messages received from Jody, Donna, and Claire apparently loving their efforts, and Alex sending a voice message demanding that Dean convince Jody to put up their own tree yesterday.

He’s just tidying up some books on the corner of a table and snatching up a wrapper from one of the packs of tinsel that one of them forgot to throw in the trash, when he hears the vinyl player being started up.    

“Your mother told me that you like this one,” Cas announces when Dean walks back through to find Cas standing there with his head slightly tilted as he listens to the first few bars of _I’ll Be Home For Christmas_.

Cas is beautiful, Dean thinks to himself with a sigh, not even feeling self-conscious for having such a thought as he’s drawn to step closer to him.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, coming to stand right in front of him, “I don’t know why, but… I remember it from being a kid. I’m pretty sure Bobby played it a bunch of times—not that Mom was around to know that, of course. But yeah. I like it,”

Cas says nothing, but extends his hands to Dean, and Dean wraps himself around Cas sinking into his warmth, savoring the feel of him in his arms. Cas smiles then drops his head down on his shoulder and sighs to himself, and they begin to turn a small circle, with Dean softly singing along.


	14. Chapter 14

Since Cas had liked the _gift that keeps on giving_ of the season ticket to the theater, Dean decides on a crisp, cold morning, that he has an even better idea. He rouses Cas with promises of pancakes at the mall he wants to take him to, then sits and watches him drink three cups of coffee straight before he’ll even look him in the eye.  

“What are we doing here?” Cas asks once he pushes his empty plate away, and contritely stretches his hand across the table to grasp at Dean’s.

“Clothes shopping,” Dean smiles, “something else we should’ve done before now,” which is also true. But since Cas has helped himself to all of Dean’s wardrobe, and Dean’s barely been able to let Cas out of his sight, there’s all manner of things they should have done yet haven’t gotten around to. New clothes, for example. A new jacket.

Not that Dean’s not spent many an evening fantasizing about Cas wearing all kinds of things, as well as wearing nothing at all, of course. And it’s not just fantasizing anymore, he smiles to himself, in fact, most nights they go to bed without a single—  

“Dean,” Cas smiles, a knowing glint in his eye that says he doesn’t know precisely what Dean is thinking about, yet gets the general idea.

“Sorry,” Dean laughs, then tugs him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist as they head out and start looking for stores.

Of course, now that Cas is awake, alert, and not early-morning grumpy, he’s taking in everything around them with increasingly bigger eyes. The Christmas decorations adorning the mall they’re in are a silver, blue, and purple theme, and there’s so many twinkling lights that Dean thinks Swarovski might be envious of all the sparkle.

Christmas music blasts out of a number of store doorways, and excited children running in every direction imaginable remind Dean belatedly that he’s picked a Saturday of all days to take Cas shopping. And then of course, Cas’ eyes fall on Santa’s grotto, and he is immediately enchanted. They stand there for what has to be a good hour just watching everything that’s going on—with Dean monitoring Cas’ reaction more than whatever’s going on around them.

But then Cas’ attention is finally sated, and he turns to smile at Dean, leaning in for a quick peck of a kiss before tilting his head in that way he does when he’s waiting for Dean to do something.

“Ready?” Dean teases, thinking about all kinds of quips he can make about Cas sitting on his knee any time he likes, but settles for the soft smile and nod Cas gives him, and points out a store he thinks Cas will like.

Dean is relatively thankful that Cas’ first reaction when walking into the store is one of apprehension. He turns to Dean for guidance with a look that says how quickly he wants this over with—even if he does want new clothes.  

Dean’s great at shopping, even if he does say so himself. He squeezes Cas’ shoulder and tilts his head for him to follow, and in an impressive fifteen minutes they both have armfuls of clothes for Cas to try on.  

Dean is thankful that the store isn’t so overflowing with people that there are queues for the changing rooms. He gets Cas in a corner booth, and though he’d have loved to have snuck behind the curtain with him, there’s a prudish-looking woman staring them down over her glasses with a look that’s harsh enough to kill any mood. So he waits patiently, his mouth getting drier by the second for every outfit Cas tries on and looks incredible in—which is all of them, naturally. Cas is stunning; every day Dean has a moment where he thinks he might have to pinch himself for all of _that_ being, well. _His_.

Not that he’s possessive or anything, Dean thinks as he looks Cas up and down and takes in how the jeans fit just _right_ and the shirt hugs in all the good places and his mind whispers at him to say to hell with the shop assistant glowering at him and jump him then and there.

Then he takes in his odd, brightly colored Christmas socks and is overcome with affection, smiling to himself as Cas uncertainly tugs down the shirt he’s trying on, and asks for the third time if he looks okay.

“Totally fuckable,” Dean blurts out without thinking, and Cas’ head lifts in surprise at the same time as Dean hears a disgruntled huffing from the corner.

“Listen,” the assistant calls out sounding all out of patience, “he might be right. You might be _that_. But whatever you’re thinking of doing? You’re not doing it here. Just… hurry it up, will you?”

Cas’ cheeks slowly light up with blush, and he ducks back behind the curtain without another word.

Dean listens with a smirk on his face as Cas changes back into his own clothes, then feels his stomach clench when he hears the curtain whoosh along the poll. Cas steps out in a jacket that, now he’s seen Cas in it, Dean can’t ever imagine him going without. At least, he never intends to let him anywhere near that trenchcoat again Dean thinks as he reaches out to tug on a sleeve and straighten up a button. Though the trenchcoat does hold a special place in his heart...

“Are you sure I need all of this?” Cas says doubtfully as they begin looping clothes over their arms ready to pay.  

“You do,” Dean confirms with a sharp nod of his head, “and maybe if we get all this back to the car we can… come back in. See if there’s anything else you need. Or want,”

Cas’ smile for him then is sweet enough for Dean to have to lean in and steal a kiss, before he nods towards the waiting assistant and piles Cas’ new clothes up on the counter.


	15. Chapter 15

“I wanna take you out tonight,”

Dean mumbles it into Cas’ ear as they’re stood together under the shower spray, and Cas’ pleased hum echoes out around the cubicle. 

“Where?” 

“Dinner?” Dean suggests, nuzzling against him then gesturing for Cas to turn around so he can wash his hair; something he really, really loves to do for the way he groans and arches under his touch. 

“That sounds like a date,” Cas points out, angling his neck to the side as Dean ducks in to kiss along it before lathering soap through his hair. 

“Good,” Dean laughs, “‘cos it’s supposed to be,” 

“Oh,” 

“I wanna pick you up; bit difficult since we live together, but still. I wanna take you out somewhere different. I… made reservations,” Dean adds, thinking of the restaurant he’d spent hours researching, then calling to book a table, and even the menu he’d scoured over making sure there’d be things on there he knew Cas would like. 

“I do have… a lot of new clothes to wear,” Cas points out, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice. 

“That blue shirt, man,” Dean whines, pressing a kiss to the back of his ear, “wear that one,” 

It’s perfect, Dean thinks, closing his eyes and seeing the precise lines of the shirt stretched just right over Cas’ chest and hums to himself, making light work of rinsing the suds from his hair then closing the smallest of gaps between them by pulling Cas back against his chest. 

“Are you telling me where we’re going?” Cas asks, pressing back a little harder in encouragement until Dean’s forehead falls into the crook of his neck. 

“It’s a surprise,” Dean whispers there, stroking his hands up over his chest. 

***

The restaurant is perfect. Dean’s been holding his breath since he pulled the Impala round in front of the bunker and actually knocked on the door for Cas, having thankfully convinced Mary to have Sam over for dinner so he wouldn’t have to be mortified by Sam’s teasing over his romantic gestures.  

They’d held hands on the drive over to the restaurant, with Dean repeatedly stroking his thumb out over the back of Cas’ the entire way, then squeezing his hand against his lap telling Cas to stay in place as he ran around the car and opened the door for him. 

But now they’re here, and Cas’ eyes are sweeping over the festive decorations and the beautiful setting of the tables, Dean tells himself to relax. Their waiter is welcoming and ushers them over to a table, and doesn’t hover or do anything that would normally put Dean on edge. It’s fancier than anything he thinks he’s set foot in for years—maybe ever, and it’s a sort of comfort to see Cas looking around as though he’s not sure where he is either. It’s not that either of them look out of place, or that Dean doesn’t think they deserve to be there, but their meals together are usually quick snatches in diners or those restaurants that expect customers to have finished eating their meals barely ten seconds after they’ve been served. 

But here, Dean thinks, watching Cas as he studies the menu, it’s somewhere between being relaxed and more upmarket than anything he’d normally choose. It makes him wistful for a moment about giving Cas a better life than the one he’s saddled himself with by being with  _ them _ , but then reminds himself Cas wouldn’t have it any other way—and that there is still the possibility of an  _ after _ where this kind of dining’s a more regular thing.  

Not that they need things like this all the time, of course, Dean adds to himself with a smile.  

Their conversation is easy, and where once Dean would have checked himself or held back on some of the things he dared thinking about, with Cas he’s learned to be an open book. They talk about plans for Christmas, various shopping trips they have coming up both separately and together to prepare for that, grimace in remembrance of a hunt they went on just the previous week, and hope out loud for a long stretch of days where there’s no urgency to do anything much at all. 

Being with Cas has made him want for simplicity, Dean realizes, because for the first time in possibly his whole life, he doesn’t have to fill his time forgetting all the things he’s trying to pretend haven’t happened. Cas makes him want to remember every moment, and even if it did take them an age to get to this point, and being convinced he’d lost Cas for good this time, look at where they are now. 

Cas’ smile for him then tells Dean he’s staring at him, and Dean can’t help it, doesn’t care, has no interest in hiding just how happy he is to be with Cas. When the waiter arrives with their starter, he’s scooted around the table and claiming himself a kiss; the waiter barely raises an eyebrow, just serves their meal with a smile and discreetly backs away. 

Their meal is perfect, everything about their evening is perfect, and even though they’re in no hurry and take their time, soon dessert and coffee is finished and it’s time to leave. 

“You tired, Cas?” Dean asks as he holds the restaurant door open for him to step back outside. 

“No,” Cas tells him, and there’s a silent agreement that they’ll extend their date a little longer. 

***

With a blanket beneath them to protect against the cold of the hood, and another stretched out over them to help trap the heat inside, they lay back against the windshield, snuggled together and looking up at the stars. 


	16. Chapter 16

“We’ll be back late,” Mary calls as she tugs on Cas’ arm for him to follow her. Dean sends a wink in Cas’ direction then waves, calling out as they leave. He’s got the day to himself since Mary’s taking Cas shopping to help him choose the Christmas gifts he hasn’t already purchased, so today is the perfect opportunity for Dean to get things done that he needs Cas to be elsewhere for.

He takes a minute to check in on Alfie, of course, who is happily eating when he peers over the top of the cage. Alfie turns, mouth full, mid chew, to observe the human looming over him with a look Dean’s convinced has been learned from Cas. Then returns to chewing whilst holding eye contact until Dean’s laughing to himself for out-staring a guinea pig, and walks away.

He checks his phone for messages then goes to their bedroom, dragging out the piles of presents he has and scattering them out over the bed. Christmas music goes on the laptop to keep him company since Sam is off doing something Dean suspects involves Eileen, so there really is no one but him around, which means he can get everyone’s presents so far wrapped and hid away again.

Apart from Jack.

Jack appears in the doorway at the exact moment Dean’s putting away his now-wrapped gifts, and from the look on his face he’s been tucked up in his room reading, so quiet that Dean has a guilty moment of having forgot he was there.

“I want to buy something for Cas,” Jack announces, which throws Dean for all of a second. But then he’s nodding, and just a few minutes later they’re driving away.

“What are you gonna get him?” Dean asks as they drive, already going over a list of things he needs to do while they’re out.

“I think perhaps something to play with,” Jack replies in that steady, monotone tone of his. For a second Dean’s mind is elsewhere, thinking of two of the gifts he’s just wrapped and having to discreetly school in a laugh. But then he turns and gives a semi-serious nod in agreement.

“Like what?”

“He mentioned some board games he has played in the past that he would like to play again,” Jack tells him, pronouncing _board games_ as though the phrase is something exotic that doesn’t sit right on his tongue. Dean thinks of _Sorry_ , and of _Twister_ , and his heart gives a bittersweet thud. But he nods again anyway, and thinks of the perfect place to take him.

***

With Jack laden with bags of things that Dean knows are going to get played to death over Christmas and likely cause a few fall outs, Dean makes a stop so they can grab a quick lunch, then heads to a garden store.

“What are we doing here?” Jack asks, looking mildly interested in his surroundings.

“Something for Cas,”

“For Christmas?”   

“Yeah. Kinda,” Dean amends, thinking about the emails he’s exchanged with the guy he’s meeting here and hoping this is going to work out.

***

Dean forces himself to let Cas sleep in the following morning, but when Cas is alert enough Dean is dragging him outside with a wad of papers to hand.

“So I’m thinking,” Dean begins to say, shuffling through the papers then turning to gesture, “we can’t right now, but in spring, and summer—I got the best dates for planting stuff. I was thinking, maybe over here,”

Cas follows the point of his finger in silence but with a growing smile on his face.

“And,” Dean adds, checking through his papers, “the guy gave me a long list of flowers that’ll… well, so we can get your bees interested,”

“Dean—”

“And I thought,” Dean continues, pressing the papers in Cas’ hand for him to see the rough plans he has for helping him create a garden here, “this could be something you did with Jack. Me, of course, if you want me to, but… Jack came with me today, and he looked… I don’t know, Cas, he looked… peaceful. Like he liked the idea,”

Cas nuzzles against him to ask him to continue, then presses a kiss to his cheek, staring down at the papers again then out at the ground in front of them.  

“This is for you… it’s your garden,” Dean says quieter, silently taking Cas’ hand, “but… Jack mentioned something about doing a small memorial or something for Kelly. I mean, I don’t… it’s not—”

“Dean. It’s perfect,” Cas tells him, the tone of his voice telling Dean just how much he really likes the idea.  

“It’s not very Christmassy,” Dean adds, shrugging his shoulders a little.

“No,” Cas agrees, “but it is… enduring. It is an… ongoing project. I… it is perfect, Dean. Thank you,”

And if Cas wants to thank him by wrapping him up in a hug that makes Dean feel like he’s come home, then who is he to complain?


	17. Chapter 17

“I don’t know, man; everything,”

Dean nods towards the laptop he’s just handed Sam and shrugs. 

“But like… what—” 

“Just… make sure there’s a virus thing on there and… I don’t know. Some of those sites you know he likes,” 

“Dean,” Sam smiles, shaking his head even as he’s opening up the laptop and switching it on, “not that I object to helping you set this up for Cas—at all—don’t you think  _ you’re _ the one that knows all the stuff he likes? Better than I do?” 

“Just… please?” Dean asks, his eyes turning towards the door half-expecting Cas to come looking for him. “I… I said we’d head into town and… I don’t know, man, he wants to see the Christmas lights tonight. Thought we might as well stay over, and—” 

“Got it,” Sam laughs, shaking his head, his eyes so full of all the things he wants to tease Dean about that it’s enough to make Dean whimper without hearing even a single word. 

“That okay?” Dean says, having to check even if he is pleading with Sam to get this set up for him. He was going to leave it so Cas could open everything new himself, but then thought of the near miss they’d had with a new tablet that Cas had taken against the operating system of, and thought better of it. 

“Yeah,” Sam smiles, “go. Have fun. Get out of here. We’ll… see you tomorrow, I guess?” 

“Yeah,” Dean smiles, “and… thanks,” 

“When’d you get this, anyway?” Sam asks, already beginning to type. 

“Before I went to the garden center,” Dean replies, smiling. 

“With Jack?” Sam laughs, and there’s a groan in his voice that is, Dean thinks, justified. Jack had followed him around the electrical department being intrigued by every item in there: from toasters and waffle irons to curling tongues and epilators. The bombardment of questions once they got to the computers and tablets had been almost enough to tip Dean over the edge. But then a patience-of-a-saint shop assistant had come to relieve Dean of his misery, answering all of Jack’s questions with both knowledge and enthusiasm, and leaving Dean to browse uninterrupted, whilst picking up a few tips as well. 

“Yeah,” Dean laughs, and it’s enough for Sam to be shaking his head and groaning in sympathy. 

“Well. I’m sure I’ll hear about it at some point from him,” Sam smiles, because it’s true; all the things that fascinate and intrigue Jack everyone gets to hear about in separate conversations. Dean had to repeat to Jack several times why he couldn’t discuss the laptop with Cas. 

***

Cas’ excitement and interest for the Christmas lights has Dean grinning all evening. He swears he hears him humming along to a couple of the carols, and has the origins of another explained to him through mirth-filled tears. There is mistletoe to kiss under, lights of all shapes and sizes strewn along streets overhead, and a huge Christmas tree that is in danger of toppling for all the fake presents beneath it being continuously shoved at by excited small hands. 

But what Dean loves more than anything is seeing a carefree Cas wandering the streets beside him, with a look on his face that says he knows he belongs. It’s better than anything, and yet he still wants to give Cas more. Dean smiles at the thought of some more of Cas’ upcoming presents, and is powerless to resist pulling him in for another kiss. 


	18. Chapter 18

It’s neither his idea nor much of a present, but when Cas and Dean stop on the way back to the bunker for groceries and get roped in to help with the cookies being made as part of a Christmas demonstration in the supermarket, Dean at first wants to shrink into the ground with mortification.  

But Cas seems to be really enjoying it: his sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, there’s dots of flour up the front of his sweater and even on his cheek and nose. And really, Dean thinks, unconsciously beaming at him, Cas looks to be in his element. He’s even willingly wearing a Santa hat and allowing one of the people demonstrating to drape tinsel around his neck (which Dean is sure is not good for health and safety when baking cookies in a public place, but he’ll pass up on passing judgement just because of the look of joy on Cas’ face). 

Once they’re done being guinea pigs and have had numerous cookie samples pushed on them along with a stack of money off coupons, Dean grabs a cart, and they finally make their way around the store. There are Christmas decorations draped over everything in sight, and a kid’s just run along the seasonal aisle pressing every button on everything there that can make a noise or sing. Dean smiles and shakes his head, remembering doing similar things with Sam. 

The store is playing an evil mix of music that seems to hit all the highlights of all the worst Christmas music it’s possible to have in one location, but Cas’ smile is still beatific, turning this way and that and taking everything in as though it’s the very first time he’s seen any of it. Dean supposes it is, really, in some ways, viewing Christmas entirely through human eyes. It makes  _ him _ more excited just for viewing it all with him—although, Dean amends to himself, just  _ having _ Cas with him is probably the main reason for any and all of his excitement for Christmas this year.  


	19. Chapter 19

“Did you bring those marshmallows?”

Jack’s greeting for Claire the moment they get her through the door is typical Jack: short, sharp, and straight to the point. Kind of like early-Cas, Dean thinks to himself with a smile as he claps Cas on the shoulder in passing, and Sam approaches from wherever he’s been to wrap Claire up in a hug.

Cas had proudly picked Claire up from the bus station driving the Impala, and Claire’s amused smirk for Dean behind Cas’ back showed exactly how much she knew it meant to him. There seems to be an unspoken agreement between the two of them to make it obvious to Cas how much he means to them both: Cas’ face when Claire had stepped off the bus and all but thrown herself into his arms is one Dean’s going to replay for himself whenever he’s in a bad mood.

“Yeah, yeah, I got ‘em,” Dean hears Claire say when Sam pulls back, then listens as she rummages in her bag and turns to see her waving a bag of snowflake-shaped marshmallows in Jack’s face. Jack snatches them from her fingers and nods towards the kitchen where Dean had been heading himself.

Cas comes to stand beside him, and just inside the kitchen doorway they stand and watch Jack and Claire preparing hot chocolate, with Sam coming to stand at their shoulder, and the three of them smirk between themselves without saying a single word.

Claire’s been to stay at the bunker a few times now, has even claimed a room for herself—Cas’ old room. Dean listens to her laughter ringing out along the hall as she leaves Jack studying the pan of hot chocolate they’re preparing, knowing the stuffed toy Cas had spent an age choosing she must have now found sat waiting for her on her pillow. She has quite a collection now, Dean smiles to himself; Cas has shown him the pictures she’s taken of her bedroom with a shelf becoming overstuffed with gifts from him.

“I love it,” Claire announces quietly to Cas when she returns, clutching the small bear in one hand as she throws her arms around him for a hug. That those hugs and words come so easily to them both now Dean loves to just stand and observe, closing his eyes to all the times he’s had Cas pillowed on his chest talking about his hopes and fears for his relationship with Claire.

“And I got something for you,” Claire adds as she pulls back. She pulls a small parcel that she’s wedged into the waist of the back of her jeans and presses it into his hands, grinning as he carefully unwraps it as though fearing whatever’s inside might break—which obviously, it won’t, Dean snorts, it’s clearly a book of some kind.

“The Tao of Pooh?” Cas says, his voice already laced with an affectionate kind of laughter as he begins to turn the pages.

“Yeah,” Claire insists, grinning herself and slotting up beside him as he turns the pages, “remember? I told you about it when we were playing Poohsticks, and I said—”

“You were playing _Poohsticks_?” Sam interrupts, full of disbelief.

Cas turns his head just enough to smile at him, but is more engrossed in what Claire’s telling him, then throws his head back and laughs hard at one of the pages that she insistently taps a finger against and announces _this is so you…_

“Thank you,” he says softly when she finishes, wrapping an arm around her and pulling Claire into his side. Dean’s heart melts all over again as it always does seeing them together like that, and gives a tiny shake of his head when Sam catches his eye.

Once they’ve had their hot chocolate and Jack’s announced that he would like to do even more Christmas shopping—and Cas has proudly showed off Alfie with Claire fussing and gushing over the guinea pig as it buries its way into the corner of her arm, they reach an agreement that Claire, Jack, and Cas will go together, as Dean and Sam have to do a much less festive supply run, as well as picking up some stuff they agreed to take to Mary.

Sam and Dean stand and watch as Cas pulls the Impala round with Claire and Jack fighting over who’s riding shotgun. Claire wins, and Dean has to bite back a laugh, thinking that no one but Claire, not even Cas, could get away with shoving Jack as hard as she’s just done without some pretty unpleasant consequences. Jack slides into the backseat in defeat, and Dean’s sure there is a small hint of a smile.

“Hey, you forgot something,” Dean calls out to Cas as he waves ready to set off. Cas grips around the steering wheel and looks at him expectantly, his eyes following Dean as he jogs around to his side of the car.

Without pausing, without listening to the catcall from Sam or the _gross_ from Claire, or even the feel of Jack watching the entire thing like he’s watching some kind of nature documentary, Dean leans in through the window and kisses Cas goodbye, stroking a thumb over his cheek as he does and pulling back to smirk at the look of surprise on Cas’ face.

“Okay,” Dean nods, standing up again, “you’re good to go,” then pats the roof of the Impala and steps back, winking as Cas smiles at him, and watching as the Impala pulls away.

“Man,” Dean announces as he walks back towards the bunker, clapping a hand around Sam’s shoulder as he passes to go inside, “Christmas is gonna be awesome this year,”  


	20. Chapter 20

Cas tugs at the gift wrap bow Dean’s stuck to the side of the massage oil he’s bought to make it appear more festive, then looks up at him with wide smile.  

“I thought you said this gift was practical,” he teases, reaching out and slotting his fingers through Dean’s where he’s standing at the foot of the bed nervously hovering.  

Why he’s nervous he’s not sure; it’s not like he’s never given a massage before, and also, with Cas, any new experience goes with no questions and no judgement at all. It’s just that there have been so very few people in Dean’s life that he’s _wanted_ to pamper the way he tries to Cas at times, that it makes his stomach flutter and his hands shake a little and his mind overthink. Not because he doesn’t think he won’t get it right, exactly, but more that he still has residual doubt that his efforts will be well received.  

“It is practical,” he insists anyway, holding Cas’ other hand when he lifts it so he can raise him to his feet, “you were saying your shoulder ached from all that shopping you did with Claire and Jack,”

“Jack is currently _preparing gifts_ ,” Cas says with a smile and a slight twitch of his fingers that says he would be air quoting if he had his hands free.

“Which means?”

“Which means,” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “Alfie is _helping him_ ; his cage is in the corner of the room facing the bed so he can observe what he is doing; I think Jack is planning talking him through it. And when I went in to his room to see why I could hear him… yelling… there was Scotch Tape and gift wrap everywhere, including the side of the cage—everywhere aside from the gifts,”

Dean snorts at the image that’s given him and loops his arms around Cas’ waist, drawing him closer. “I’m sure we’ve got more wrap around here he can use,”

“Sam calmed him down with a pack he’d just bought—and tea,”

“Tea?” Dean laughs, leaning forward for a brief kiss, “how’d he get away with that?”

Jack has been insistent that every food and drink that touches his lips in the lead up to Christmas must be Christmas-themed; it’s resulted in multiple tantrums and strategically placed decorations to placate him and prevent outbursts of sheer rage.

“Sam told him cinnamon _is_ festive,” Cas smiles, shaking his head a little, “it appears to have worked,”

Dean laughs harder at that and wraps him up in a hug, swaying there slightly and enjoying the peace that is being shut away in their room.

“So,” he whispers into Cas’ ear, “you gonna let me do this?” he asks when Cas steps back, and nods towards the bottle of massage oil on the bed.

Cas smiles but doesn’t say a word, just stands there right in front of him, and begins to undress slowly, keeping eye contact the entire time, making Dean think that maybe this is more of a gift for _him_ than it is for Cas.


	21. Chapter 21

“Am I gonna have to blindfold you or something?”

Cas drops his head and grins down at his own lap, reaching for Dean’s hand and using it to cover his face, then drops that down to tangle through his own.

“I apologize,”

“Thought you liked surprises,” Dean teases, squeezing his fingers back.

“I do,” Cas agrees, turning to look at him, “I was just curious about the… route we were taking,”

“Yeah, ‘course you were,” Dean laughs, but pulls Cas’ hand until it’s resting against his own lap.  

He’s not entirely sure what Cas is going to make of this gift. And it’s an eight-hour drive one way to find out if he hates the idea, which is why Dean’s booked them a room so, if nothing else, they get an evening together alone. He thinks Cas will like it, or at least, appreciate the gesture; in fact he knows Cas will be appreciative whatever he gives him. But the thing is, this might remind Cas of a time when things were not all that great for him, one of the moments in his life that Dean’s sure there are parts of they’d both like to forget.

So Dean changes the subject not knowing yet how to explain it to him, and they fall into that easy back and forth they’ve developed that’s now interlaced with affection and openness that Dean can’t ever imagine being without. Cas makes everything seem possible, Dean thinks to himself when there’s a pause in their conversation, and it’s too big a truth for him to be dismissive of it, or even snort in derision like he once would have done.  

They pull up outside of a property that Cas’ eyes are immediately scanning over the front of before turning back to Dean for an explanation.

“Remember when… back when… back—”

“When I, uh, _followed the bees_?” Cas supplies, smiling back at him in amusement.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, squeezing his fingers and clearing his throat, “I, uh… I know things weren’t all that good back then, but you really seemed… you really seemed to like those bees, and the honey and all that,”

“I did,” Cas assures him, “I do,”

“And,” Dean adds, shifting a little in his seat, “I… I still can’t get the image of you landing right here on the trunk covered in nothing _but_ bees,”

Cas appears to be considering his words, and it takes a few seconds before his eyes blow wide in realization, and he’s letting out a slightly embarrassed laugh.

“I tell you,” Dean huffs, “I didn’t… I didn’t sleep for _days_ thinking about it. Not—not so much for the bees, but… but because it was the first time I’d seen you nak—like _that_ ,”

Cas grins at him then like Dean’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen.

“Anyway,” Dean says, clearing his throat again and pointedly ignoring how hot his cheeks are flaming, “I thought… maybe we could come here, buy a few things. Maybe arrange you a visit for… well, for whenever you want,”

Cas turns his head back to the apiary for a moment then looks back at Dean, and leans across the seat to kiss him in quiet thanks.

***

Dean is convinced the idea is a good one the second they step through the apiary doors. There’s pictures of bees wearing Santa hats and holly bow ties, tinsel and trees and every kind of Christmas decoration, and Cas’ eyes are darting everywhere like he doesn’t know where to look first.  

Dean silently follows as the beekeeper first greets then leads Cas around the small store, pointing out the various products and explaining a little about how some of them are made, and asking about Cas’ own experiences—which he carefully steers a practiced path through.

By the time they leave with a printout of the arranged apiary visit for a few months’ time, they’re both of them laden down with honey, beeswax gifts that are intended for Claire, a lip balm that Dean had teased Cas for needing and is still licking his own lips for from the way Cas planted one on him, and various other things that, to be honest, Dean’s got no idea what they’re supposed to do with.     

Cas is happy though, grinning all the way to their motel for the evening, and showing his appreciation when they get there in all kinds of ways that leave Dean exhausted.

***


	22. Chapter 22

On their way back from the apiary Dean takes a longer route, timing it just right so that they can make it for a winter carnival that’s only an hour away from the bunker. There’s a Christmas market, real reindeer that Cas is fascinated by, and by the time they’ve made their way through all of the festive treats on offer, Dean’s glad he stuck to just one mulled cider, where Cas’ cheeks are flushed from just finishing his third.  

They huddle close together pointing out the numerous displays and performances around the carnival, buy even more decorations for their poor Christmas tree that is already groaning under the weight of all that’s adorning it. There’s carol singing that Dean is surprised and delighted to hear Cas quietly singing along to, and an overall festive atmosphere that it’s hard not to get swept up in.

There is only one blight on the evening, and that is a couple of drunk people who approach them both with mistletoe and little understanding of the word _no_. Cas has the perfect solution, however, by grabbing the mistletoe that’s being all but shoved in their faces, and holding it high over his and Dean’s head, kissing him as though there’s no one there to watch.

Dean’s cheeks are just as flushed as Cas’ by the time they’re finished, and they walk back to the car hand in hand, with Dean squeezing his bottom lip between his finger and thumb and smirking at Cas as he does it, then crowding him up against the car so he can kiss him all over again.


	23. Chapter 23

Jack demands a day on his own with Cas. Dean overhears mentions of shopping malls and human celebrations and _learning more about his heritage_ , and swallows a little hard for what that might mean.

“He wants to go to a church service,” Cas tells him with a rueful smile, “and would like to ask some questions,”

“I guess… you’re the one that would be able to answer them,” Dean replies, looking down at Cas’ hand as he wraps it around his own.

“He also wants to go ice skating,” Cas adds, smiling harder, “and there is a matinee of _It’s A Wonderful Life_ that Claire told him he _has_ to watch,”

“I’m more of a _Scrooged_ guy myself,” Dean smiles, humming as Cas wraps his arms around him to draw him in, “maybe _The Muppet Christmas Carol,_ ”

“Sam tells me we should _binge watch_ Christmas movies tomorrow,”

Dean smiles, his stomach giving a violent flip for at least two of the things he’s got in mind for tomorrow, but nods anyway, thinking a morning of watching Christmas movies might be just the thing to put him at ease.

“Sounds good,” is all he says, then accepts his kiss goodbye, and the half-nod from Jack as he passes, then spins on his heel and goes back to their room.  

He meets Sam on the way back out, with Sam laughing at his balancing act and relieving him of some of the gifts he’s got tucked up under his arms.  

“You realize, Jack’s gonna count every one of ‘em and sulk if he doesn’t think he’s got enough,” Sam smiles, walking with Dean then helping him arrange the gifts beneath the tree.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, beckoning Sam to help him pick up the rest from the closet he’s stashed them in, “let’s just hope he’s got enough from everyone to stop any fireworks from happening,”

“Speaking of fireworks,” Sam says, dropping to his knees and reaching behind the Christmas tree to stash even more presents, “Jody says we should go through to hers for New Years. There’s some big display they go to every year, and she says she wants to return the favor of dinner,”

“Sounds good,” Dean agrees, following Sam to his room to help him haul through his presents as well, “we’ll have to bring through Alfie though. Cas won’t leave him here,”

“You think Claire’s gonna let us in the house _without_ the guinea pig?” Sam huffs, and Dean laughs and shakes his head.

“How long’d you think it’ll be before Jack tries and lets him out in the car on the drive over, ‘cos he looks _bored_?” and they both laugh at the image knowing it’s not so far from being a possibility.

“You, uh… all set for tomorrow?” Sam asks once they’ve set out all the parcels beneath the tree and made guesses about Jack and Cas’ reactions.

Dean nods as that flip in his stomach does another violent turn, waiting to find his words. “I think so,”

“You’ll be fine,” Sam assures him, looking more confident than Dean thinks he’ll ever feel, “just… he’ll love it. Honestly. Just… don’t look down and all that,”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean fires back, laced with sarcasm, pleading with himself not to mess things up, then reciting his plans in his head all over again.

“So, listen,” Sam says then, dragging his attention away, “I’m gonna leave here in a couple hours,”

“Eileen ready for putting up with us all for a few days?” Dean smiles, thinking to himself about how many times she’s been to visit them now, and how it’s been a long while since Sam’s even pretended to set her up a separate room.

“I think so,” he smiles back, that soft affection around his eyes that Dean _would_ tease him about, but is honestly so pleased to see Sam so happy, that he’s promised himself he’ll refrain from teasing for at least a couple of days after she’s been here. “Think she’s more excited to see Alfie than anyone else,”

“That damn guinea pig,” Dean laughs, thinking of all the evenings they’ve had with him so far where Alfie’s been passed from lap to lap to be petted, and sat there enjoying it all as though it’s something he thinks he’s entitled to receive.

“Jack swears he’s taught him new tricks,” Sam adds, laughing, though it turns into a groan about half way through.

“I… don’t even wanna think about what kinda tricks,” Dean replies, grimacing a little.

“I’m sure Cas’ got it all under control,” Sam shrugs, absently checking his phone for the time. “You need me to pick anything up on the way back from the airport?”

“I’m good,” Dean tells him, shaking his head, “I’m gonna head out for some last minute stuff anyway,” and Dean thinks of the few places he’s got left to go, the last few things he needs to buy—mostly for the Christmas dinner to end all Christmas dinners, he adds to himself with a slightly nervous smile.

“Okay,” Sam agrees, stretching a little, “I’m gonna fix a sandwich. You want?”

Dean thinks about all the things he’s got left to do, then thinks about _doing_ all the things he’s got left to do, and feels a little sick.

“I’ll… grab something while I’m out,” he replies, mentally going over yet another list.

“Okay. Just… ask if you need anything… okay? You don’t… there’s gonna be enough of us here for you not to be doing everything alone,”

Dean thinks of the kitchen disaster that will be Jack, Sam, and Mary helping prepare things for their Christmas dinner, and silently pleads with Jody to arrive early so he’s got at least one other capable person around that can cook.

“Yeah, I will,” he says anyway, patting against Sam’s arm and heading back to the bedroom for his wallet and keys, checking for a second time that the gifts he’s got for Cas that really aren’t the kinds of things to be opened in front of family are exactly where he left them. Then he’s scanning over the room, holding his breath, telling himself to stop overthinking, and heading out.


	24. Chapter 24

The hot air balloon pilot smiles confidently back at Dean in that reassuring way that says he’s done this a hundred times before. Dean tries to return it, but can barely stop himself from digging his fingers into Cas’ hand as they prepare to take off. Cas, though, Cas makes this worth it. Cas looks elated, and that’s before they’ve even got off the ground. He squeezes his hand back—more in excitement than anything else—then nudges Dean so they’re facing outwards from the basket.

Dean pleads with his knees not to fail him, and begs the flimsy-looking cables holding them up not to snap. The roar of the flame behind them makes Dean jump a little, but he forces himself to release his grip on Cas’ hand and clings to the edge of the basket instead.

The first jolt when they lift off, Dean decides is the worst. His stomach plummets as his legs keep steady, and a quick glance down at his own hands reveals them to be knuckle-white. But then he’s fixing his eyes on the horizon, not even able to look at Cas and all the delighted noises he’s making. If he can just make it until they’re airborne, he bargains with himself, then he might make it out alive.

“Dean,” Cas urges, his voice laced with awe, “this is incredible,”

Dean sucks in a couple of deep breaths before he can move his eyes, and turns to settle them on Cas’ face. He’s euphoric, his mouth curved up into a beautiful smile, his hair blowing back away from his head in the breeze, and a peaceful breath visibly stirring in his chest. Dean imagines Cas flying free then, and aches for the parts of Cas that Cas probably misses but never really says very much about. Dean knows he’s happy here, and that he’s happy human, but he’s got so many memories that they’ve not even scratched the surface of Dean knowing everything from Cas’ past.

Flying, though, Dean thinks with a careful peek over the side of the basket; he can imagine Cas doing that, clear as anything. Wonders if he should ask if he misses it or whether he should leave him to talk about it in his own time.

Dean makes himself look again properly, takes in the view beyond their balloon, thinks it really might be pretty good if it wasn’t for the way his stomach’s still lurching, but apparently this was the best idea he’s had so far. Because that happy look Cas gets on his face for receiving presents is quadrupled right now here in this basket lazily stirring through the cold, late December air.

When his breath is coming out steadier, Dean risks a look down at his watch, and realizes only about half an hour has passed. The pilot told him they’d be up in the air around four hours, so Dean figures he’s got a little more time before he needs to really start panicking, and bravely takes a step to the side to throw his arm around Cas’ waist. Cas snuggles back against him, tilting his head back and silently asking for a kiss. And Dean is more than happy to oblige him; it’s not like he doesn’t spend literal hours kissing him at times. But added to that is the distraction kissing gives him away from the distance between his feet and the ground below, and Dean will gladly take all the distraction he can get.

About an hour into the flight when Dean’s relaxed enough to not need to be gripping on to _something_ for fear of falling, he turns the fraction he’s brave enough for and meets the pilot’s eye. He watches as he raises his hand to press a button, then nods solemnly, and offers up a smile that Dean thinks is meant to mean _good luck_.

“Cas,” Dean says, tugging on his fingers until he looks at him, “I… you got a minute?”

Cas looks around them at the basket, and the view over the side of it, and smiles curiously, though nods and doesn’t point out that it’s a stupid question.

“Right,” Dean says, cursing himself for his fumble, “I mean good. I mean I… I wanted to talk to you about something,”

“Of course,” Cas tells him, as he always does. Always so accepting of whatever Dean wants to tell him whether he really wants to hear it or not.

“Thing is,” Dean says, turning another fraction and holding on to both his hands, “I just… ever since I got you back again, after—after Kelly, and—and Jack, it’s been… I’ve been trying to… it’s like I’ve got all these things I wanna do, and say to you, that just… I mean, I keep tryna get ‘em out, but—”

“Dean,” Cas smiles, shaking his head, “we talk. We are… honest with each other. We… things between us are… exceptional. I… the difficulty we used to have—”

“I thought I’d lost you for good last time,” Dean blurts out, his throat catching as the image of Cas sprawled out dead on the ground before him assaults him yet another time.

“I am here, Dean,” Cas tells him softly, and in a gesture that Cas has come to do a lot of every time Dean wakes from a nightmare where he really has lost Cas for good, he takes Dean’s palm and presses it against his own chest, until Dean is reassured by the beating of his heart.

Dean closes his eyes, allows the pulse to calm him a little, then opens them again, and has to raise his hands to cup Cas’ face, draw him into a kiss.

“Dean, are you okay?” Cas asks when they pull back, apparently able to sense the panic that’s coursing through him.

“I’m good,” Dean nods, snagging their hands together once again, “I just… I… I love you, Cas. I don’t… I don’t want you ever to think that I don’t, just ‘cos I don’t say it all that much. I’m tryna show you—”

“I know you love me,” Cas tells him, shaking his head to cut him off, but his expression softening for hearing it. “As you know that I love you,”

“I do,” Dean smiles, cursing himself once more, this time for tearing up. “Anyway. That’s not… that’s not really what this is about. Not—not all of it, anyway,”   

Cas nods as though he knows Dean needs to keep talking before he loses his nerve, and stares back with an encouraging smile that says he won’t push.

“Thing is,” Dean continues, clearing his throat, “this is… I mean, I know we’ve been… _us_ , officially, I guess, for… I guess not all that long. But it’s like… it’s been a while—a long while, that we’ve been… that I’ve been—”

“I have loved you for a long, long time, Dean,” Cas tells him, his own eyes a little bright. Dean tells himself it’s the blast of cold air swirling up around him, and not that Cas is second-guessing what he’s trying to do.

“I know. Same,” he blurts out, squeezing his hand, “I just… I’ve been thinking, lately, about… about how I’ve… over the years I’ve not really given you all that much,”

“Dean,” Cas smiles, shaking his head in disagreement, “you have. You have given me a family. A home. A reason to—”

“I wish I had more to give you than all that,” Dean tells him, shaking his head and feeling so very lacking.

“Dean,” Cas says, stepping closer, “you have given me _you_ , and everything that comes with that. I cannot… I can’t want… I don’t _need_ , anything more than that,”

“I can only give you myself,” Dean whispers, not trusting his voice not to crack, “and this… all the crap that comes with it,”

“Dean. I love the life we have together. I do,” Cas tells him, trying to inject urgency into his words.

“I wanna give you more,” Dean tells him, wrapping his hands around Cas’ waist and pulling him closer still.

“You give me everything already,”

“I wanna… I want… I want so many stupid things…”

“I am sure they are not _stupid things_ ,”

“I want,” Dean says, choking up no matter how hard he fights it, “I want you… I want you to… carve your initials next to mine and Sam’s in the Impala,”

Cas smiles, his lips trembling a fraction as though he’s just as swept up in what Dean’s feeling.

“I want,” Dean continues, having to clear his throat before he can continue, “I wanna give you a last name,”

A sob ripples up out of Cas’ mouth then, and his eyes take on a surprised look that Dean thinks means he’s beginning to understand what he’s telling him.

“I wanna… celebrate birthdays with you. Anniversaries. Take… stupid pictures that we stick all over the fridge that Sam makes gagging noises at. I want… I wanna… I wanna get a ring on your finger,” Dean says, wrapping his own around Cas’ to show his meaning, “stop… so people know you’re _mine_ ,”

“I am yours,” Cas says, the first of his tears beginning to bud in his eyes.

“I know,” Dean agrees with a watery smile, “but I want everyone to know it,”

Cas smiles at that and seems to take a breath to steady himself.

“I wanna… I want you to know you belong somewhere, Cas. With _me_. I wanna… keep giving you stupid gifts so I can see that smile on your face every day—”

“You don’t need to give me gifts to make me smile, Dean,”

“No, I know,” Dean tells him, allowing himself one kiss to his cheek, “I just… I want it. I want you to… I need you to know how much I… I need you to know how much you’re loved. The idea that you spent so long not knowing that, ‘cos I was too stupid to—”

“Dean,” Cas cuts him off before kissing him quickly, “everything is good between us. I am… happier than I ever thought I would be. It’s… to have you, to have a family, a home, it’s… you have given me everything just by allowing me all of that,”

“I love you,” Dean blurts out, because if there’s any time he needs Cas to hear it, then it’s now.

Cas smiles back at him just as wide, sucking in a breath as Dean takes a step back from him, and digs inside his jacket pocket for the ring box that’s been burning a hole in him ever since they set off from the bunker.

“I’d… kneel, but,” Dean says, briefly peeking down at the floor of the basket and having to swallow, shake his head, and look up again.

“I don’t need you to kneel,” Cas tells him, his words coming out choked.

“Cas,” Dean says, shaking cracking the box open as he grips on to Cas’ hand, “will you… I mean, if you wanna… could you… I—”

“Dean—”

“Marry me, wouldya, Cas?” Dean blurts out, wishing he knew how to say something more profound.

It’s enough though, apparently, because tears are beginning to leak down Cas’ cheeks, his head is nodding rapidly, and there’s a smile on his face that Dean’s sure is about a mile wide.

With trembling fingers he pulls the ring from the box, and after a couple of misses manages to slot it down over his finger, squeezing it to make sure it fits.

“I got a… I got a matching one back home. I just—”

“It’s perfect,” Cas says, staring down at the ring in awe. And it is perfect, Dean thinks, a comforting feeling settling in his chest just for seeing the ring on Cas’ finger. The rings are beautiful but simple, exactly how he’d want them to be. So very _them_.

“I love you,” Dean whispers again, feeling like now he’s started saying it, he doesn’t want to stop.

“I love you,” Cas tells him, and then there isn’t anything else to say. Dean lifts a hand to cup Cas’ face as his other hand loops through Cas’ to feel the weight of the ring there against his skin, and then he’s leaning in for a kiss.


	25. Chapter 25

Eileen’s tearing up, her eyes darting between Cas’ fingers and the TV screen as he repeats what he and Dean are saying in the video of their hot air balloon flight in ASL.  

Dean has a second to thank Sam’s foresight of setting up a huge TV screen on one of the bunker walls, another to look at the various pairs of eyes all suspiciously bright, then catches Cas’ ring on his finger and has to squeeze at his own, still a little disbelieving at his own luck.

The flight had gone off without a hitch, and the pilot had seen enough mid air proposals to have a camera set up perfectly to capture the moment. Dean wasn’t all that excited about that part initially, because his proposal was for him and Cas. But watching it back surrounded by their family and seeing all their reactions tells Dean it was a good idea.  

They’d returned from the hot air balloon and immediately told Sam, Eileen, and Jack, with Sam practically bouncing in nervous excitement the moment they stepped through the door. And the others they’d told when everyone had arrived here in the bunker a couple of hours ago. Dean’s sure he’s never been hugged so much, or as hard as he has been today.

Claire’s done her own version of a shovel talk which Dean found both hilarious and also couldn’t help but be touched by. Jack has asked about a thousand questions about weddings, and Donna is so excited by the whole thing that she keeps breaking out into these huge smiles she keeps turning on the two of them every few minutes. Dean loves having Donna around, he thinks then as he smiles at her; her mood is infectious, and she can bring a smile to anyone no matter the cause of their gloom.

Jody and Mary are both teary-eyed, and though Dean might have expected it from his own Mom, the one who’s insinuated herself in a similar role is grinning back at him just as hard. And Alex is turning her head to look at all of them with a quiet smile on her face, then catching Dean’s eye and giving a small nod in approval.

Family, Dean thinks, wondering what Bobby would be thinking if he was there with them. He probably is, Dean huffs to himself a second later, then laughs as Jack insists they play the video again.

The bunker has been a home to them for a while now, but to see all the people filling it, breath in the scents of food cooking, and hear snippets of numerous conversations going on all at once, does something to Dean he’s not sure how he’d explain if he was asked. But he basks in it anyway, revels in having all the people he loves close. Finds ample time to sneak kisses from Cas every chance he gets, of course, because now they’ve made this promise to each other, he’s even _more_ excited to be in his company—and Dean didn’t know that was possible.

“I’ve got a surprise for you all,” Sam announces out of nowhere, and Dean’s heart gives yet another excited thud wondering if he wouldn’t be the only Winchester getting engaged this Christmas—even if _Sam and Eileen_ haven’t been a thing for all that long. But then Eileen, with this partner-in-crime look about her, is coming to stand by Sam’s side with a sheet of paper that she hands to him with a wink, then steps back as though to both give him the room, and to watch every word he is saying.

“So,” Sam says, turning his gaze slowly over everyone scattered around the room in front of them, “Dean told me a few weeks back he was planning on this,”

Dean tilts his beer in Sam’s direction in recognition, and silently thanks Sam for not making his life hell with teasing—like he might have every right to do considering how badly he’s teased him over the years.

“And I thought,” Sam continues, darting his eyes away, “I know you guys wouldn’t want a big fuss or anything. But I know you’d want a proper wedding of some kind,”

Dean agrees. He’s not sure how they’re going to pull that off considering they’re all dead or wanted under various names across the country. But he decides to put his concerns about that part of this off until another time.

“So I thought,” Sam says, turning to smile at him, “I thought, if you guys wanna pick a day between like… now, and New Year—when it’s… when we’re all around to do this with you. When Eileen’s here—”

Eileen slots into Sam’s side and grins up at him, looking confident that she already knows what he’s going to say.

“—it’d be great. I mean… I got ordained so I could… I’d love to be the one that marries you. Like, marrying each _other_ , not—”     

Donna’s squeal of excitement just about out blasts out everyone else’s, and there’s a few seconds when there’s nothing but noise. But then there’s hugs, people talking over each other at what seems like a hundred miles a minute, and Dean’s fairly sure he might explode for how happy he feels.  

“I just thought,” Sam says when he’s standing next to Dean, “I just… wanted to do this for you,”

Dean doesn’t trust himself to speak, so pulls him into a fierce hug instead.

“Well,” Jody says, clearing her throat, “I’d say this calls for a celebration,” and there is definitely enough alcohol in the bunker for them to be able to do that possibly tenfold.

But then Sam’s gesturing for them to wait, and Eileen’s running to catch up with him, and then they’re returning with a haphazard assortment of tumblers and glasses, along with two large bottles of champagne.

“Where’d you hide those?” Dean asks, thinking that he’s sure he’s been over every last scrap of food and drink they have in the place so he knows he should have seen them.

Sam just shrugs easily, and turns to pop the cork.

Dean’s not had many occasions to be on the receiving end of toasts of such happiness. But with Cas pressed in tight by his side and smiling just as hard as Dean thinks he might be himself, he allows himself to revel in it. There are cheers, humble words, and a whole lot of innuendo and joking that leaves Dean blushing with mortification but still reveling in every moment.

“I know this is about you,” Jack says all of a sudden, standing there and looking very much as though he’s been on pause, “and I offer my sincere congratulations,”

Dean raises his glass and nods back, at least half as solemn as Jack.

“But there are people, who, I am sure, would like to be here to celebrate this with you,” Jack continues. “I know you did not know my mother particularly well, but I feel that she would… she would have been pleased to have been a part of this. This, and Christmas generally, I suppose,”

“To Kelly,” Cas says quietly as he raises his glass, and it’s echoed by everyone else in the room.  

“John,” Mary adds with a wistful smile of her own, and soon John’s name is echoing amongst the group as well.

“Bobby,”

“Jo and Ellen,”

“Ash,”

“Rufus,”

“Pamela,”

“Kevin,”

“Charlie,”

“...Benny,” Dean mumbles, smiling at Cas’ humph beside him and nudging back, then clears his throat, squares his shoulders, and adds, “Crowley,” and is surprised when Cas nods in agreement, and even Sam holds his breath only for a second then lets out a relenting sigh.

“Meg,” Cas says then, a little softer, and Dean ignores the strange twist in his gut and raises his glass.

“My Mom. Amelia,” Claire says softly, making eye contact with Cas and smiling at him sadly, but with no trace of resentment at all.

“Jimmy,” Cas adds, slipping from Dean’s side to walk over and stand beside her, pressing a kiss to her temple and making Dean’s heart melt all over again.  

“Jess. And Sarah,” Sam says with a pinched smile; Eileen crowds a little closer to him and squeezes her arm around his waist, holding on tight.

“Sean and Owen. You didn’t get to meet ‘em, but… they would’ve loved this,” Jody smiles, and their names are also mumbled out in remembrance.

“Balthazar,” Cas adds softly, and Dean is twitching to wrap him up in his arms for all the angel family Cas has lost too.

“Alfie. Gabriel,” Dean says, and Sam groans but laughs at the same time, earning himself a smile.

Alex mumbles out the names of her own family, and their names are quietly toasted to as well.

It might be a little maudlin, Dean thinks, to be thinking of all the people that they’ve lost right then. To be reminded that they all have lost so much. But standing around in the bunker on Christmas Eve, surrounded by all the people he loves and cares about, it seems right, maudlin or not.

He looks first at Sam, who he’s been through so much with, more than anyone else in the room, and sees how happy he is—how happy Sam is for _him_. And then he turns to Cas, to the person he has every intention of growing old with, of waking up every morning with, and holding each night as he falls asleep. He thinks of tomorrow morning, waking up to a home full of love and overflowing with food and presents, and no urgency to do anything but be in good company. And he thinks, _there isn’t anything I want more than this._  

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

Dean wakes on New Year's Eve morning to Cas returning from the bathroom and burrowing his way into his arms.

“Dude, your feet are freezing,” he complains, tugging him closer and wrapping the comforter and various blankets tighter around them, “not like you’ve not got a ton of socks,”

Cas mumbles something incoherent but Dean snorts at it anyway, earning himself a cold leg thrown over his own, and a frozen foot pressed against his calf.

“Did you marry me so you could use me like a heater?” Dean complains, not meaning a word of it, but dropping kisses on the crown of his head just in case.

“I married you for numerous reasons,” Cas retorts, pulling back just enough so they can sort of observe each other in the dark.

“Oh yeah?” Dean says. “Like what?”

“You _are_ warm,” Cas says, as though they might have been arguing the point. “You make excellent coffee, and your pancakes are even more delicious than that diner we always stop at on the way back here if we are on route,”

“Food and heat; I’m good like that,” Dean laughs, then harder for the indignant wriggle against him.

“You are,” Cas agrees, pressing a kiss into Dean’s skin just above the neck of his pajamas. It’s cold enough now that they’ve resorted to clothes in bed; Dean’s looking forward to spring so he can put an end to that. “I also married you, because you asked me,”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Dean huffs, rolling them until he’s got Cas trapped beneath him, and even in the limited light he can see the triumphant curve of his smile.

“It is,” Cas agrees, slotting his hands up under the back of Dean’s pajama top and laughing softly at how he winces at the temperature of his palms, “it is also because I intended to spend my life with you anyway, and I can think of no better symbol to demonstrate that,”

Cas has got him there, Dean concedes, though doesn’t quite know if he wants to admit that. He hums instead, and presses kisses up the length of his neck, before dropping his head there and sighing as Cas wraps his arms around him.  

They married two days after Christmas, agreeing to it over a sleepy breakfast that soon erupted into chaos as everyone shouted their contributions to getting things done. There was talk of booking a hotel, or going somewhere else for the ceremony, but then Mary had said how nice it might be for them to marry right there in the bunker, already brimming with decorations and only needing a top up of food and drink.

Jack, Claire, Eileen, and Sam had made a lengthy list of everything they needed and all but run out in their haste to get everything together, and Donna, Jody, Alex, and Mary had ushered Dean and Cas back to their room as they tidied and decorated the bunker a little more.

When they emerged from their room later, it was to find even more decorations covering every surface, a beautiful cake covered over in the kitchen along with more food than even Dean thought they could handle as a group.  

Mary then dragged Dean away to find his best suit and fuss over him, and he turned just in time to catch Jody, Donna, and Claire doing the same to Cas. Alex sank down into a seat beside Jack as they passed, and the two of them just watched the entire thing happening with smiles fixed on their faces.

The ceremony was so very _them_ ; simple and straightforward, with vows they both had rehearsed in silence whilst in their room, both stretched out on their bed with their laptops as they searched for the perfect words.  

And then it was done, and they were married, and Dean thinks he’s never going to have a day where he doesn’t remember every single detail of it.  

“I love you,” Dean kisses into his neck, humming as Cas wraps him up even tighter, smiling to himself at the impromptu party they’d had on the wedding night with everyone, and the hotel Jody and Donna had insisted on paying for the following day.  

“I love you,” Cas repeats, turning them so they’re back on their sides. “I am looking forward to _seeing the New Year_ in with my _husband_ ,” he adds, and though there’s teasing in his tone there’s also excitement in his words. Dean gets it, and feels exactly the same way.

***

The crowd for the fireworks is bigger than Dean had expected, sure that the entire town’s come out to see the display. It’s in walking distance from Jody’s, so the second the last fireworks are done they can all huddle back there together where it’s warm, and there’s alcohol, and more importantly Dean can hear himself think. He has no problem celebrating anything, Dean tells himself, but decides he prefers less company. Fewer people to have to make conversation with so he can concentrate on those he wants to spend his time in the company of.

Like the man wrapped up in his arms burrowing back into the heat of his body much like he’d done in the early hours of this morning, Dean adds to himself with a smile as he drops a kiss on Cas’ shoulder and squeezes him a little tighter.

Turning the fraction he can, Dean catches Donna’s excited smile, Jack’s more curious one, and one by one checks, on instinct, that everyone he knows and loves is there. It’s second nature to him, and even in the probable safe setting that is a New Year’s Eve firework display, he’s on alert. It’s probably something he’s never going to be able to get out of the habit of, Dean thinks, and huffs to himself.

In the warmth of their hotel bed they’d whispered dreams and hopes for future plans. He’s _got_ a future plan with Cas by his side, he smiles to himself, and that they both want the simplest of things—a home, their family, and a little less death and destruction in their lives—is yet another reminder of just how good they are together. He’s been stacking up all the reasons for why they are so perfect for one another, and he swears it’s got to be in the hundreds by now.  

Cas also wants more pets in the future; Dean would give him pretty much the world, so if Cas announces that he wants a safari park, he’ll do his damnedest to try and get him exactly that.

Not that Cas would want that, Dean thinks, snuggling a little closer still, and hooking his chin over Cas’ shoulder.   

The countdown begins, and Dean takes a couple of seconds to check again that everyone is where they should be. And then he wishes. For love and safety for all his family. For a future where there’s less violence, and hatred in the world—both supernatural and otherwise. And then he looks forward to waking up on the first day of a brand new year snuggled up with his husband, and Dean thinks life doesn’t get much better than this.  

The first firework signals the stroke of midnight, and Cas’ head lifts to observe the sky with quiet delight. Dean presses a kiss to the side of his head and nuzzles up the back of his ear as he watches the fireworks himself.  

“Happy New Year, Cas,”

Cas squeezes his hands again, presses his fingers around the ring on Dean’s finger, and turns just enough to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Happy New Year, Dean,”

 


End file.
